


Starkissed

by pterapower



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Megaforce
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterapower/pseuds/pterapower
Summary: On your sixth birthday, a girl fell from the stars. And even though it's years later, she still shines like one. -- Giemma





	Starkissed

Her tears are stardust. She bleeds nebulae, haunting bursts of color that should elicit awe but that instead represent pain. Her voice echoes like the song of the universe, as though she could speak and the rest of reality would fall into order. When the light strikes her hair, it is a shining golden corona. And when she smiles, her eyes light up like the stars themselves.

And you love the stars; you always have. Ever since you were six and your mother took you far away from the city to see a meteor shower for your birthday. The memories are faint, but what remains is wonderful and magical and shining. The cool midnight air. The breeze darting all around through the trees. The way she guided your eye towards the constellations, telling you their names and stories. You remember seeing your first shooting star, watching it flash across the dark night sky. It was something new. Something meaningful.

It was on that day that a girl fell from the stars. And even though it’s years later, she still shines like one.

It was your idea to return to this place and it’s exactly the same as you remember. But this time, you’re not looking at the stars that dot the sky. There’s one much more beautiful right next to you.

She’s lying down on the rolling hillside, blonde curls intermixing with blades of grass. Her eyes are closed, oblivious to how you’re watching. She allows herself to smile. It’s a rare moment that she lets herself relax like this. Here, the real world seems so far away. It’s like a fantasy. It’s everything you ever wanted. 

You wrap your jacket more tightly around your body to try and stave off the chill. She notices the sound and turns towards you, letting her hair fall into her eyes.

“You alright?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “Just a little cold.”

She sits up in one graceful movement. “Then here. Let’s switch.”

She takes off her jacket, black leather. It’s fashionable. Strong. Not really the kind of look you could pull off but that she manages effortlessly. You can see the hairs on her arms stand up in a silent protest.

“Are you sure? Won’t you be cold?”

“I’ll live. And besides, it’s _your_ birthday. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”

You want to point out that it’s technically her birthday too, but figure it wouldn’t change her mind. You take her jacket and shrug off your own. Hers is a little too big, but it’s warm and it’s _hers_ and that means everything. You watch as she tries to pull yours on. It somehow fits her perfectly. Like it was meant for her.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She inches closer to you.

“But in exchange, you’ve gotta keep me warm.”

You laugh, your breath forming little clouds in the icy air. “You don’t need an excuse to get close to me.”

“Shut up,” she says, but it’s playful and it’s just like her.

She rests her head against your shoulder. Her body presses against yours and you can feel your heart racing. You know she can feel it too. She’s gotten good at telling these things since you’ve come to know her.

Everything is quiet. All you can hear is the sound of your two hearts beating. You appreciate it.

As crazy as it sounds, you’d completely forgotten about the stars.

But then one darts across the sky as though it’s alive and you can’t help but look up. A single streak of yellow heads west towards the sea. It reminds you of how your mother told you long ago that shooting stars are really meteors traveling through the atmosphere and not actually stars at all. That their beauty only lasts a moment. After that, their fate is to burn up or crash into the Earth. Either way, their journey ends. They are no longer shooting stars, but little hunks of rock. You try not to think about them like that; it takes the magic away.

And besides, you know the journey doesn’t have to end there.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper to yourself in awe.

“Yeah,” she says, mumbling into your arm. “Beautiful.” But she’s not looking at the sky. Her voice sounds hollow. You know she doesn’t mean it. She hates the stars.

You hum in response but don’t say anything. Not until she sighs and turns away, pulling her knees close.

“Should we go back?” you ask.

She shakes her head. The gesture is small, but it causes a cascade of wild movement in her hair. The light ripples off it and you can’t help but stare. “We’re here for you. Not me.”

All she’s trying to do is make you happy. You know that. But you never know what to say when she gets like this. It’s hard; you want to help her so badly, but there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. There isn’t anyone on Earth with the power to do what you’d need.

There just isn’t any way to return a fallen star to the heavens.

And besides, she’d never ask anyone else for help. She doesn’t even talk to most people. Not openly. Not in the same way she talks to you.

“I can see the stars any time.” You shrug. “We can do something else tonight.”

“But you love the stars.”

She’s right. You do love the stars; you always have. But you’ve also loved her. And you’re sorry to the universe. It will never compare.

You stand, hearing the grass crunch under your shoes. You extend a hand. She looks back at you.

“Let’s go back home,” you say. “So we can warm up a little. And so you can stop thinking so hard about these things.”

She takes your hand. She always does. Her star-kissed skin is soft and pale and cold but you can sense the heat that lies beneath. You run your fingers through her hair even though she tries to pull away. Eventually, she stops fighting. She smiles at you. Despite the smile, you can see that her eyes are glistening wet. By this point, it’s instinct for you to wipe at them. She lets you. It’s easier for her to let you than to let herself cry.

Hand in hand, you gently pull her along to where her car was parked. It’s a long, quiet walk. You catch her looking back up at the stars.

“Don’t do that,” you say, drawing her attention back to Earth. “We’re going back now. You can think about other things instead.”

Her reply is hushed, very unlike her. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

She crosses her arms, letting go of your hand. “I wanted you to have a good time.”

“I did. I always do.”

“I’m sorry I’m like this.”

Both of you stop walking. You give her a moment to breathe.

“I just wish I didn’t care so much. At least then it’d be easier to pretend—”

“You don’t need to pretend anything,” you say. “Not when you’re with me.”

She nods, as though she’s taking in and contemplating the meaning every word. You can see that her hands are shaky. You wrap an arm around her and pull her close. She leans into you. You feel whole again.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I want _you_ to be okay too.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment and you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. But then she glances away and tries to hide a smile.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay,” she whispers. Then she turns to face you. The starlight strikes her eyes and they shine brighter than anything in the sky. “Being with you makes me happy. That’s why I love you.”

You lean closer to her, so close that you can feel her breath against your skin and see the constellations reflected in her eyes. All you can think about is how you want to kiss her so badly. She doesn’t let you hesitate. Her hand reaches for your face and you close the space between you.

The kiss is beautiful. They always are. Despite the cold, she’s warm and it only intensifies when she breaks away for a second to smile. It’s rare for her to let you kiss her, especially lately. Maybe it’s even worth celebrating a little. It fills you with emotions you barely understand. Everything she is flows into you — the sights, the sounds, the touches and tastes. Visions of places you’ve never seen and people you’ve never met. You hear voices that you barely recognize. See colors that you don’t have a name for, bright prismatic shades that overlay the reality you know. She fills you with her thoughts and feelings and emotions. You feel her happiness, her sadness, her apprehension and fear, her love and passion. The briefest glimpses of memories fly by. Some are joyful — a walk on the beach, ride through the woods, a kiss under the stars. But many are tinged with pain. You experience her anxiety. Her loneliness and yearning. And even though you are together in this moment, you know she still feels that way.

You wish it could last forever. But no matter how strongly you wish, you know nothing ever will. Not this moment or this kiss or this chilly night. Not you. And not her. Even the brightest stars die eventually.

She’s the one to pull away and she’s smiling at you. Of course you smile back. It’s a smile that represents bliss. Neither of you needs to say anything. She knows what you saw and felt. It’s nothing new to her, even though it is to you.

Kissing her is always like this. Always has been. You don’t think other people would understand. You doubt any of them have ever been starkissed before.

Starlit under the endless sky, you continue your walk in silence. Her hand brushes against yours and you take it again. Any little touch is welcome. They all fill you with energy, so that you feel wide awake despite the late hour. You feel content. The world could have ended just then and you would have been okay with it. As long as she is there, it will be alright.

Even still, you know this is something the two of you will have to talk about sometime. You need to sit her down and have an honest conversation about the stars, about the world beyond what you know, about you, about _her_. You know that. She does too. It’s just easier to pretend otherwise. Maybe you’ll save that for your next birthday. Maybe she’ll be ready then.

Another shooting star flies by overhead, but you’re too busy looking at the one that fell to Earth.

She opens the passenger-side door of her car and lets you in. She takes her own seat and turns up the heat.

“Let’s go home,” you say, taking off the jacket she gave you and resting it in your lap, instantly missing its touch against your skin.

“Yeah,” she replies, her eyes on you and not on the stars above. “Home.”

And as she drives, you look down at your hands. At the tears you wiped away for her earlier.

Her stardust shines back at you.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a super experimental piece I wrote a few months ago. I was cleaning out my Tumblr likes and got inspired. Looking back, I can't even find the specific post that gave me this idea. If I could find it, I'd credit it. 
> 
> I'm not sure why I wrote this in the second person. I've never done that before. It just felt right for some reason.


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